


Lost and Found

by Kalla_Moonshado



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: (if it becomes canon I'll strangle someone), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Drabble that became more, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Torture, M/M, Oops, Pre-BfA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: Tumblr Prompt Ask:Anonymous said:12 - “Who did this? Who hurt you?” Khadgar & Medivh?So... the drabble started ages ago... and uh.*clears throat* is now more.





	1. Lost

Khadgar was late. Khadgar was never late when it came to an appointment. Oh if he just said ‘I’ll be there’, when was always a mystery, but if he said he’d be somewhere by a certain day or time, he was always there, unless he sent a message to the contrary.

Medivh was worried. There was no message. But here it was, midweek, tea time, and there was a severe lack of Archmage Khadgar.

He frowned, pacing a little along the small study where they typically took their tea and talked. With the current conflicts, he started to worry about whether or not Khadgar would wind up caught in crossfire. Bad enough that the Horde and the Alliance were once again at each other’s throats instead of actually paying attention to the greater threats at hand… but he supposed eventually when things really started going to hell in a handbasket – sans the handbasket – they would come to their senses.

Until then, he was still stuck here, wondering where his wayward apprentice had got to.

Khadgar had taken to acting as a neutral information source, going to Horde and Alliance leaders both, and had declared that if he told one, he would tell the other – and there would be no exceptions. He was absolutely neutral, refusing to take up arms against either side, and absolutely refusing to deny information to one or the other. Any intelligence he knew, he would send to both – and he would only do so on his own.

Medivh worried that it would make him a prime target for capture and possible torture, but Khadgar would hear nothing of the kind. He had worked with both sides and done so openly in the past.

But this was not the past.

The clock on the mantel chimed. Medivh looked up at it and hissed. Khadgar was now two hours late, and had not sent any kind of message on ahead to let Medivh know he’d be late getting back.

No. No, something had definitely happened.

Without a second thought, Medivh was heading for the nearest window – which just so happened to be the balcony of the study. He took his raven form, launched off the balustrade and caught a thermal that lifted him into the sky.

His apprentice’s last known destination was Stormwind. He would begin his search there.

 

The familiar trees of Elwynn in Spring flowed under him as he flew, though he noticed that some of the forest had been ravaged by war. He had hoped to never have to see such a thing again as long as he lived. So much for hopes.

He banked sharply and slowed his flight at the gates to Stormwind, closed now instead of open. With a soft warbled sigh, he landed atop the staff of Khadgar’s statue, looking around. Patrols had been increased along the streets, and there seemed to be a permanent force stationed at the gates themselves, considering that they had bivouacked to one side of the gate by the bridge.

He slid off the staff and flew low, watching the hurried steps of citizen and soldier alike as order was kept – almost martially, but just shy of actual martial law. He didn’t like the looks of that. Had things escalated so far?

He landed in the courtyard of the Keep, which was still, thankfully, as open as it had always been. He returned to his human form and headed for the throne room, where he was, predictably, stopped and questioned. He gave his name, and that he wished to see the High King.

There was a moment’s hesitation – nervous hesitation perhaps? – before the guard escorted him to King Anduin Wrynn himself.

Anduin looked far less like a child now than ever – the worry lines across his face mirrored that of his grandfather, and Medivh knew those lines quite well, and knew that in his grandfather’s case, had caused no few of them.

He waited patiently for Anduin to finish marking a map on the table spread before him, and then look up. His eyes widened a little with surprise.

“Magus Medivh – this is unexpected!” The king stepped around the table – ignoring a growl from Greymane, who had been at the young king’s side – and offered his hand. Medivh took it, and nodded to the king in a cursory bow.

“Indeed, but it was urgent that I come.”

“Do you have information for us?” Anduin asked, eagerly.

Medivh shook his head. “I come seeking information actually, Majesty,” Medivh replied in a low voice, his eyes on Greymane. “Has Khadgar been here?”

Greymane dropped his eyes and busied himself with another matter on the map with one of the others at the table. Medivh narrowed his eyes.

Anduin however, shook his head, slowly. “No – we were told to expect him, and that he would have some reports we’d need to know about.” He drew Medivh further aside. “Information that by his ‘code’ came from the Horde.”

Medivh nodded. “He has been successful so far in acting as your liaison to the other side, and believe me, you are not the only one who has been grateful. As your people war, the fact that information still flows is a miracle.”

Anduin sighed. “Tell me about it. Though, it is hard sometimes.” The young king glanced back at Greymane himself. Medivh pursed his lips.

“So Khadgar has not been here?” Anduin shook his head. “Damn. He was due back two hours and then some ago, and he had sent no message stating he would be late.”

“No – you don’t think…” Anduin’s eyes went round, and for a moment, just a moment, Medivh was struck with just how young he was.

“Something’s happened. I fear he got caught in crossfire. His first destination was here, however. If he is not here, it means that he never reached so far as this. I will be going to the others, and seeing if he deviated, however. He has been known to lose track of time, but usually sends a message to that effect on ahead to keep me appraised of where he is. Both of us know that in our unique positions…” Medivh didn’t have to explain the danger that put both magi in.

Anduin nodded. “No, he’s not been here. If I hear anything, I will send a message to you in the usual way,” he offered. “And when you do, I would appreciate an update. He and I may not be close, but I still consider him an uncle of mine for who he was to Lothar, my grandfather and my father, just as I do you.”

Medivh smiled. “Good lad. I will keep you informed.” He genially patted Anduin’s arm, then with the abrupt mercurial shifts in mood he was still known for, turned and headed back to the courtyard.

Anduin watched him go, frowning a little with worry.

 

Medivh’s next destination was Silvermoon City. He knew that going to the Banshee Queen directly was never a good idea – and the Undercity was still rather an affront to his nose. No, better to go to her right hand – or left, whichever Lor’themar Theron was that week.

He was a bit less of a welcome sight in Silvermoon, however. Though the elves were cordial to him, he was looked at with suspicious gazes that were open and contemptuous as he and his escort made their way to the Sunfury Spire. Lor’themar was a far less formal Regent Lord, and waved the magus into his study.

“What brings you here, Magus?” he asked, offering Medivh a crystal goblet of ruby wine.

“I’m looking for Khadgar, actually.”

“Ah! We have been watching for him – I was given to understand he brings word from… the other side.” Lor’themar sipped from his own glass. “He’s never been late.”

“And that’s what concerns me. You say he hasn’t reached here – but he also had not reached Stormwind.” Lor’themar put his glass down on his desk, his eye widening. “Exactly.”

“Wait – so are you saying that something’s happened to him?” the Regent Lord said softly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Medivh sipped at his wine, letting the light flavor cool his throat. “He is well trusted and liked by both sides, so I cannot figure out what might have happened – other than in his flight, he may have been caught in a crossfire somewhere.”

Theron sighed, picking up his glass again and draining it before setting it back down. “Right now all of the conflict is elsewhere. There is nothing but a few skirmishes going on in the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms. Where would he have been caught in a crossfire? And without showing himself?”

“If he was in his raven form at the time, and didn’t manage to dodge an arrow…” Medivh shrugged, sipping his wine again.

“Still, that… doesn’t seem likely.”

Medivh relaxed a little. “So you see further than those of Stormwind, at least.”

Lor’themar shrugged. “I have no qualms with the Archmage. Nor with you. You have chosen to remain neutral through this conflict, and I respect that. I feel that most of, if not all of the leaders, regardless of how we feel towards the others, or of the other side, respect that.” He frowned. “I can think of no reason for any of our forces to attack Archmage Khadgar, whether he be in human form or in his raven form.”

Medivh drained his glass and set it beside Lor’themar’s. “And there lies the problem. It may have been an accident, or there may have been malicious intent.”

Lor’themar sighed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I know nothing. No one I know knows anything – or at least has said nothing if they do. If you do hear anything, keep us posted, please. If I hear anything at all, I will send word at once.”

Medivh nodded. “That’s all I can ask. Thank you for your time, Regent Lord.” He nodded a slight bow, which Lor’themar returned, and walked him back out. “Be safe, Magus,” he said simply as man became raven. He offered his arm, and after a moment, Medivh hopped up onto the wrist offered him.

Lor’themar launched Medivh into the air. “Safe flight, my friend,” he said quietly as the raven banked to the west and south.

 

The same answers came, regardless of where he went. No, Khadgar had not arrived, though he was expected. No, no one knew where he was or what may have happened. There was no finger-pointing from anyone, which was something at least.

With a sigh at the setting sun, Medivh settled himself on the mast of a ship in Stormwind Harbor – one bound for Kalimdor and the slowly rebuilding Theramore.

He was met with the same answers from Baine Bloodhoof, Varok Saurfang, Tyrande, and even Gallywix.

Gliding on a thermal over Desolace, an idea struck him. Perhaps Khadgar had gone down to the hub of all the current activity – and been caught in a conflict there. He banked, picked up another thermal and headed straight for Silithus.

 

Khadgar had found himself in uncomfortable places in the past, but this had to take the strudel. His feet throbbed. His hands were numb. His back was a solid lance of agony. His shoulders screamed in protest. His head didn’t bear thinking about.

He never figured he would wind up here of all places. Not for the purpose he was here for either. He looked up at the sky, and sighed. He couldn’t call for help. Not vocally. Not mentally. Not magically.

No, no, his captors had taken pains to be certain that he would remain where he was, how he was, until his purpose was complete.

He was long past fear. He was long past despair. He was well beyond even the constant hope that was his companion for years on end. His eyes, dull with his lack of emotion, closed, and he didn’t even wince at the gritty feel of them.

He shifted very slightly, trying to relieve an itch along his back where blood had dried hours ago, and watched through his eyelids as the sun rose, turning the cool darkness into bright reds.

At least, if what he heard was correct, it wouldn’t be long now. He wished he had a way to tell Medivh he was sorry for being so late in getting home.

 

Medivh cawed in anger as the titanic blade came into view on the horizon in the early morning sunlight. The metal of it glinted dully; a mock to anyone who looked at its constantly shifting living … bits. Medivh looked away, choosing to look down at the ground instead.

The view wasn’t much better. He banked, heading for the Alliance encampment. He dodged arrows until someone realized that he wasn’t a game bird – or hostile. When he landed, he had… words… with the commander of the post before demanding to know if anyone had seen his apprentice.

There were murmurs of concern – and finally he thought he might get answers. Yes, yes, they had seen him, and he had gone toward the Horde camp.

However, the Horde camp proved less useful – _they_ had seen him head toward the Alliance camp.

He sighed.

Well, at least he knew Khadgar had been here. Why he had been here, when his destination was Stormwind, he could not fathom.

He launched himself back into the air and circled the gigantic blade driven into Azeroth’s core, eyeing it with utter loathing. With a scream of defiance at it, he turned north, intent on continuing his search.

As he banked, something caught his eye. There was something – a small something – dangling from one side of the blade guard. He shifted his weight, wings pumping to get him more height as he moved automatically to assuage his curiosity.

The scream of defiance turned to a screech of rage. His wings aching as he forced more from them, he spread his tail to catch any updraft he could as he forced his climb.

The thing dangling was a man. Or rather what was left of one.

He overshot the figure, then eased himself down on the rail Khadgar’s wrists were bound to, and the hum of power beneath his talons made him realize it was Atiesh. He screamed again, just barely able to keep himself from gouging the wood as his feet closed and flexed in agitation. Instead, he made a series of clicking noises from the back of his throat, shook himself and then finally opened his mouth to speak – but was beaten to it.

“So,” Khadgar rasped, his voice barely over a whisper. “The first comes to claim me. Fitting that it should be a corvid. So be it.” His head drooped and he went silent – or unconscious.

Medivh screamed again, unable to articulate speech through his anger. He launched off the staff, setting it – and Khadgar – swaying. He circled twice, looking at how Khadgar was suspended. Chains from the hilt of the sword held Atiesh aloft, bindings of barbed wire held Khadgar’s wrists to the staff, spread so his shoulders would be stretched and useless. The rest of him was left free, other than more barbed wire binding his bare feet together, and a chain from there led to a heavy metal ball – and that ball was covered in blood, and dripped slowly.

A second circle showed Medivh that Khadgar’s robes were saturated – the darkness suggested blood, but in the heat, it could have been both blood and sweat. His face was hardly recognizable. His head carried a gash from one ear up to the top of his skull, and another along the back.

If scavengers drawn by the scent of blood didn’t tear him apart, he would be drawn and quartered faster than any rack would.

Forcing himself back under control, Medivh shot toward the ground – and the Alliance encampment. He couldn’t free Khadgar as a raven, and he couldn’t stay aloft as a human without aid.

When he landed, he told the commander what he had seen, and was sent back with a gryphon – one that seemed to recognize Medivh, and treated him with affection. Within heartbeats of tugging her saddle tight, he realized it was Khadgar’s. So. She had fled to a safe haven when… whatever had happened – or she didn’t know he was in danger.

Sky Dancer would sooner fling herself into the sea than let her kitten come to harm. Well, that would be an advantage.

Medivh urged her up, and she balked at getting near the blade. He leaned forward so he could speak, softly, against one ear tuft. “Your papa’s up there. He’s in trouble. He’s hurt. We have to get him down.”

The gryphon made a squawk of shock, whipped her head around to look at her rider and made a sound of inquiry. Medivh repeated his words. “Khadgar’s in danger, girl. Come on. We have to get up there.” He had no further trouble with her.

Once they reached Khadgar, however, she shrieked in rage, though stayed in control long enough to hover as Medivh freed the ball from Khadgar’s feet, then freed Atiesh. He could worry about the rest later.

Khadgar was unusually cooperative. Limp, even, as Medivh hauled him across the gryphon’s back. As Sky Dancer streaked towards the ground, Medivh checked for a pulse, and found one. A very weak one.

Before they reached the ground, Khadgar’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Shh, Khadgar, you’re in friendly hands. Sky Dancer and I have you. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Trap,” Khadgar rasped, trying to lift his head. “It’s a trap! Drop me! Get away from me!”


	2. Found

“I will do no such thing!” Medivh snapped, leaning a little as the gryphon touched the ground.

Khadgar tried to struggle, but he was too weak. He looked at Medivh with pleading eyes. “He’ll kill us both!” he rasped, coughing.

“Hush. Let me get you out of this and get you to a healer.” Medivh began to unwind the barbed wire from his companion’s wrists, hissing a little as he pulled barbs out of Khadgar’s skin in places. Khadgar continued to try to pull away, and Medivh finally had enough. “Damn it, Khadgar, be still! Sky Dancer, sit on him!”

Before Khadgar could protest, there was a gryphon laying across his legs and torso. Gently, and with a fraction of her weight, but enough to keep him still enough so Medivh was able to free his wrists from Atiesh.

Without prompting, Sky Dancer got up, and danced a little on the spot as Medivh tried to stem the bleeding, then gave up. He lifted Khadgar into his arms and growled a little. Khadgar was never light, even when he was seventeen, but now he felt not only light, but he could feel the younger mage’s bones.

How long had he been hanging there? Where had he been?

Oh he wanted answers, badly, but Khadgar could not talk much in his current state. As Medivh headed for the Alliance encampment, Khadgar’s struggles increased. “Trap!” he rasped again. “Don’t!”

Medivh paused, then sighed. “You can’t talk in your condition—“

Khadgar hissed as Medivh shifted him in his arms. “Left for you. He wants you out of the way. Blame the Horde. For both of us.”

“He?” Medivh pressed.

The only answer was a shriek of pain as an arrow buried itself in Khadgar’s shoulder. Sky Dancer shrieked in rage as she charged toward where it had come from.

“No! Sky Dancer! Come _back_!” Medivh cried to the gryphon, praying that the next arrow wouldn’t take her down. Khadgar didn’t need that. “We need to get him out of here!”

The gryphon made a very angry growling cry, then returned to the mages. _First things first,_ Medivh thought, _safety._

… And not to the Alliance, it seemed. He hauled Khadgar back up onto the gryphon as she twitched her feathers impatiently. “Thunder Bluff, girl. At speed.”

Khadgar stopped struggling, though his eyes flickered across Medivh’s face. He was safe, or at least safer, and he’d managed to get through that he couldn’t go to the Alliance. He finally leaned against Medivh, and let his gritty eyes close. He was cold. Medivh was warm, and both of them would be covered in blood before long.

 

The moment Sky Dancer touched the ground on the lowest rise of Thunder Bluff, there were shocked cries as soon as she, Medivh and Khadgar became recognizable. The gryphon remained still as she was surrounded on all sides by not just tauren, but other races.

Medivh passed Khadgar to a tauren female who reached for him before sliding down and patting her neck with grateful words. An elf took Sky Dancer’s reins and murmured to her softly before leading her away to be tended.

At least one arrow had found its mark in her side, but she remained in motion, for which Medivh was infinitely grateful.  Another had sunk into his boot, at which point he shielded her from further missiles.

He let himself be led to wherever they were taking Khadgar, limping a bit until he was swept up by his guide. He didn’t bother to protest, closing his eyes and murmuring his thanks, which earned a soft rumbling reply that he didn’t hear.

The murmur of voices grew louder until they resolved into angry buzzing. He was laid down carefully onto a pallet of furs that was more comfortable than it appeared, and he opened his eyes. Khadgar was surrounded by what he assumed were healers, all of them angry.

Medivh felt a jolt at his ankle, then heard a hiss. “Worgen.” He looked up as the elf – an auburn-haired male in plate armor – looked over the arrow shaft and fletching. He looked down and saw that the rest of the arrow was still embedded in his boot and just above his ankle. “This is going to hurt a bit, Magus,” the elf murmured to him. “Someone’s getting you something for the pain.”

Medivh sighed, softly. “Thank you. How is—“

“In very bad shape. The Archmage has been tortured, and cruelly.” The paladin was now inspecting his boot, and managed to pull it off without disturbing the part of the arrow still in his flesh. “You came looking for him yesterday. What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Medivh grunted, knowing the paladin was keeping him talking to distract him as he pulled the arrow out and began cleaning the wound with something that burned. “I found him hanging off that damn sword in Silithus, dangling from Atiesh, and a weight bound to his ankles. It was slowly tearing him apart.”

The elf snarled softly, holding his hands over Medivh’s ankle as the flesh began to knit back together. “If it was one of _us_ I would be less upset. The Archmage has done nothing to anyone, other than aid.” Medivh silently agreed, but kept his mouth shut, clenching his jaw against the pain. “You’re lucky,” the paladin continued. “It missed anything major, and only clipped the bone. Stay off it a day or two and you’ll be fine.” An orc male came up to him and handed him a mug. They exchanged a few words to quick for Medivh to catch before the orc hurried off again. The elf passed Medivh the mug. “Here. This will kill the pain, but won’t muddle you.”

“Bless you,” Medivh murmured, taking the mug and draining it as quickly as he dared without burning his mouth and throat.

The paladin patted his shoulder. “I know how mages feel about being muddled by drugs.” He smiled. “More than most.”

Medivh returned the smile. “We are a bit upset by it.” He turned his head to look at the knot of people around Khadgar still. He felt the paladin settle himself on the pallet beside him.

“He’s in good hands, Magus,” the paladin murmured. “The best we have available here.”

Medivh sighed. “I wish I knew who…”

“Time for that later, once he’s no longer in danger.” The male orc rumbled as he returned to take the mug from Medivh. “I’m just glad he’s made of stronger stuff than most.”

Medivh looked at the orc, who radiated carefully controlled rage. “What do you mean?”

In response, the orc turned and tapped one of those around Khadgar, and the female tauren who had brought him here turned, then backed away, baring Khadgar to Medivh’s vision.

Even with the blood-soaked blanket covering his legs and hips, it was clear why his robes had been soaked. Claw marks covered the mage. Burn marks dotted the side he could see and his chest. The blood beneath him spoke of more injuries along his back. A young elf woman was tenderly wrapping a bandage around his head with one hand, the other dabbing at the gashes with a bit of wool-fluff soaked in something blue before the bandage covered the area.

“He was tortured, Magus. And all he will tell us is that he was a trap.”

Medivh closed his eyes, sighing. “That’s all he would tell me, too. Told me to drop him. To put him back.”

The sound of a snarling cat reached his ears. It came from the woman bandaging his head. “I would love to have whoever did this to him.” Her blue-green eyes were familiar, but he could not fathom why. “I would shred their innards in alphabetical order.” She was answered by a blond male elf, soothingly, but in a quieter voice he could not hear.

Medivh couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He remembered that fiery priestess now. And that blond paladin. He had seen them near Karazhan no few times – and knew them to be some of Khadgar’s informants.

Yes, Khadgar was in good hands. He found himself inspecting the claw marks as they were disinfected by more of that blue substance and bandaged. He’d seen marks like that before. They were not demonic. They were not feline, nor particularly lupine either. Where had he seen marks like that before?

“You should rest, Magus,” the red-haired paladin advised him. “I promise you, we will take good care of the Archmage. If anything changes, good or ill, I will wake you at once.”

Medivh looked up at the paladin, and found not only compassion in his eyes, but _understanding_. The paladin smiled at him, softly. “I have been in your position,” he said softly, his voice pitched so Medivh was the only one to hear him. “I have watched my mate die before my eyes before being revived. I watched him struggle with injuries that should have killed him twice more over. I tended his wounds, soothed his hurts, and promised him he would walk again. And I had someone who promised me, that if anything changed as I slept, I would be awakened at once.” The paladin patted Medivh’s hands. “Mages chafe at helplessness. I should know. Mates do the same. Rest. I will see that you are kept informed of _any_ changes.”

Medivh found himself warming to this strange paladin, and found himself believing him. Once, these people were treated as though they were animals, including the elves who found themselves among the Horde. Light, how he wished they could see eye to eye with those of the Alliance.

Like Khadgar did.

He nodded, slowly to the paladin. He could trust the man at his word. Medivh sighed, closed his eyes and finally fell asleep.

 

Medivh was shaken gently awake what felt like only moments later. He looked up into the paladin’s face, blinked sense into himself and nodded.

“He’s asking for you,” was all the paladin said, then stood and aided Medivh to his feet, guided him to a chair beside the bed they had moved Khadgar to, then returned to pick up the pallet. A second bed had been moved to the other side of Khadgar’s, neatly made. “I’ll be back in a moment with something for you to drink.”

Khadgar’s skin was pale, even in the soft, warm golden glow of torchlight. His eyes may well have been chips of translucent ice, pale and silver and sunken. Without a second thought, Medivh reached for his hand.

The paladin returned with a pot and two mugs, setting them down on the table by Khadgar’s bed. “Peacebloom, honey and mint. Healers’ orders for at least one mug for you both.” He looked down at their hands and nodded knowingly. “If you need anything, just call. We’ll hear.” With that, he left them alone.

Khadgar turned his head a little to look at Medivh. “Should have left me,” Khadgar began. Medivh hissed at him, and the eyes closed. “I’m serious. This could have serious consequences.”

“From _who_ , Khadgar? Who did this to you?” Medivh insisted.

Khadgar struggled to sit up a little, and Medivh immediately reached to aid him, resettling pillows at his back – and avoiding the bandages. “We’ve left them too long,” Khadgar sighed. Before Medivh could snap at him to tell him more, he continued. “The Twlight’s Hammer is still out there.” His hand tightened on Medivh’s. “But, Medivh, they weren’t alone. I was careful to avoid them. I knew they’d want to take me – and you – down for stopping the Legion. And now for trying to talk sense into both Horde and Alliance.” He shook his head, and freed his hand to pick up one of the mugs that still steamed. He sipped it carefully, his throat working more than it should, speaking of further internal injuries.

“My position was given to them. My location. My raven form.” Khadgar turned his head and his eyes met Medivh’s. “They know about our… network. About Karazhan. They know because I couldn’t…” He closed his eyes, setting the mug down by feel. “I’m sorry…”


	3. Tortured

Khadgar carefully launched himself into the air from behind the cover of several boulders, his eyes scanning the ground for anyone who might have seen him. He relaxed as he circled and headed north. His first destination was Thunder Bluff, then to the Exodar. He warbled a sigh as he caught a thermal and lifted higher. His eyes focused on the horizon, the trees of Feralas looming above him.

He didn’t see the arrow come from his left, nor did he notice it until it shredded part of his wing. Screeching in pain, he looked down – but saw no one. Instinct tucked the wing, and he plummeted towards the ground until he could force both wings back out, trying to at least slow his descent. Sand was preferable to land on, but now, with the ground a glassy, sharpened ruin, he may well be shredded as quickly as the arrow that pierced his wing.

He controlled his descent as best as he could with his right wing and his tail, spiraling as he went, eyes closed, only opening them to judge distance to the ground. Nearly there, another arrow came from his right, and he saw it this time, though not who or what had fired it. It caught his left wing and part of his back, and was followed by two more, one narrowly impaling his head, the other whistling through his good wing.

Before he could do more than shriek in pain again, he plummeted like a stone, landing on the glass-like stone below with a sickening crunch – as a human. Laughter reached his ears and the eye that wasn’t swollen shut looked up at the purple-clad human male looming over him. “Exactly where he said he’d be. Well, well, Archmage. What goes up, must come down, one way or another. We have questions. Many questions. Questions you have answers for.”

Khadgar didn’t move, though his eye narrowed.

“Ah. But perhaps first we should do something about your injuries so you can talk.” He looked up and motioned with one hand. “Take him back to camp. Knock him out first so he can’t find his way out.”

“That won’t be—“ Khadgar started, but something hit the side of his head hard enough for him to see stars, feel a wound, register that it was a wound, and pass out.

 

Khadgar woke on his knees, his arms bound behind and above him, a thick pole between him and his wrists, his arms braced by a cross-beam. His ankles were bound behind the pole as well, leaving him _just_ enough balance to stay where he was. His arms screamed in agony from where he’d been hit with the arrows, and his legs complained bitterly about his position. He tried to move to alleviate something of the pain, and found he could not move an inch in any direction, other than his head, which ached when he did so.

He blinked, and the eye that was swollen responded, though sluggishly. He could feel the itch of dried blood along his arms, and hissed when he realized he couldn’t alleviate that either. He was warm, which was a blessing in itself, positioned beside what was either a large campfire or small bonfire. The sky overhead was black, dotted with stars. Vaguely, he recognized enough constellations to determine it was somewhere around midnight.

A woman came from his blinded side, knelt in front of him and lifted his head up until it hit the pole behind him. She frowned for a moment, let him go, and moved off again.

Khadgar winced, but said nothing. The woman returned and knelt in front of him again, smearing something across his swollen eye. “This will heal it so you can see. They want you to see. To hear. To talk.”

“Why?” he wheezed. She looked at him sharply, lifting his head again, and running her fingers along his throat.

“Questions. Answers.” She shrugged. “You’ve stopped us for the last time, mage.” She let his head drop again, but picked it back up to pour something that burned down his throat. She let his head go and stood. “He can talk. Not loud yet – I just dosed him. It’ll take a moment for both the balm and the draft to take effect.”

 _Draft?! Oh Light what did she…_ But all at once he knew. They had questions. He had answers. And they would have them. He closed his eyes, noting that they were both back to normal. His fingers twitched and he wondered where Atiesh was. If he could just…

A large hand wound itself in his hair and yanked his head up so his neck cracked and he hissed in pain. The orc looked him over, nodded, then gestured with his free hand. His hands and ankles were cut free, but his hair was still tangled in large fingers. Fingers that belonged to an orc that was now moving, and with his limbs numb, all he could do was stay limp so the orc dragging him didn’t have cause to drag him over things unnecessarily.

He was tossed onto a stone slab, and he winced as he connected, his eyes closing again as he recognized blood channels carved into the stone. Light, he was going to die here, and no one would know where… or what had happened to him…

“Well, Archmage.” His eyes snapped open. The human who had loomed over him before did so again as his arms and legs were spread and bound at the corners of the slab. “I have some questions for you. And it would behoove you to answer them.” He raised his hands a little, enough to show that he carried a dagger that he ran a thumb over. The sheen of firelight told Khadgar that it was razor sharp.

Khadgar swallowed, but let his eyes narrow. “You can ask,” he said, noticing his voice was strong and steady. “But you may not get the answers you want.” It was nothing less than truth, considering that he expected questions on how he had stopped their insane wishes to end their personal quest to bring the end of the world.

His cheek earned him a swift cut along his side. He arched, clenching his jaw shut to keep from crying out.

It was the first of many.

The questions ranged from how he had managed to stop the Legion to where Sargeras was now to how to get into the tower of Karazhan, to demanding Medivh’s whereabouts and condition, and then into why he would not support either side when he was so powerful and could personally bring about the end of Azeroth to stop the bickering.

No answer he gave, truth or untruth, earned him a reprieve. Slice after slice of the razor-sharp dagger. Prod after prod of a white-hot iron. And then the snow to cap the mountain and bring it down…

A lupine figure edged along the darkness from the fire. His gravelly voice was familiar, but not recognizable. The worgen spoke low, demanding to know why Khadgar was working with the Horde at all.

“The traitors killed. Your. King.”

Khadgar’s eyes narrowed, trying to pick the form out of the darkness. “I explained. I am staying _out_ of this conflict, Greymane.” The use of the name earned him a sharp, open-clawed slap that raked down his face. Ignoring the pain, he went on. “After working with both sides to great effect in taking down the Legion, I refuse to raise arms against _either side_. I will have no part in a war that is petty bickering!”

It earned him another jab with the iron and a set of claw marks along his side. “I have no use for cowards. Nor does Stormwind. Or the Alliance. See that he’s not found once you’re done with him.” He was permitted to leave without harassment.

Khadgar snarled, unable to stop himself. “Traitor! Not just to Stormwind and Anduin but to _all_ of Azero—“

The rod of the iron came down across his throat so he couldn’t even scream when they marked him just to toy with him after the questioning.

But they had what they wanted.

Karazhan’s location. The type of wards. The number of books on which subjects that were _known_ in the library.

The number and direction of the ley lines converging on it.

They also had the perfect bait to send Azeroth’s leaders into chaos. All had gotten word that Khadgar would be there with information, Medivh had gotten a note that he’d be home.

“Put him up. No one will think to look up.”

“Up?”

The man pointed up at the sword. “Him _and_ that damned staff. I’d take it but it’s too easily recognized.”

Khadgar wisely kept his mouth shut on the fact that Atiesh didn’t answer to just anyone.

“You should be pleased, mage. You’re about to lure Karazhan’s only keeper out into the open. And even if he gets you down… We’ll have you both.”

Before he could answer, he was dragged off the slab, dragged back to where he had awakened, where he was whipped with barbed wire, laughed at, kicked until he heard ribs crack, thrown into the air to land until he managed to scream when his wrist snapped, then felt a sharp blow to the back of his head.

 

“And I woke, hanging from Sargeras’ blade.” Khadgar cradled the stoneware mug in his hands, shivering a little. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You should have left me. Karazhan—“

“Can wait, Khadgar. We can get rid of intruders to the tower. We can claim another stronghold and regain what Karazhan once had. I can’t replace you.” Medivh set his mug down.

“Greymane,” he hissed. “I never much liked him.”

“I’m not sure if he was working with them or if he just saw an opportunity. But I think he was the one who told the cult where I would be and … what form I would be in, so they would look for a lone raven.” Khadgar shook his head. “But I have no proof, Medivh.”

“We’ll see about that,” the former Guardian snarled.

There was movement outside, and they both looked up to find Baine Bloodhoof standing at the doorway to the tent they’d been put in. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said slowly and carefully. “I’ve sent word to the others that you are here, and alive. No details. I also sent word to Anduin so he could spread that word.”

“If it gets anywhere,” Khadgar sighed. “Thank you, Baine. For all you’ve done. However, Anduin may find that message intercepted and destroyed. They have a traitor, one who helped put me into this condition.” He held up a hand, winced and dropped it again. “I will not say who, or how I know. I will say that you should spread the word – from me – that the Twilight’s Hammer cult is alive and well, and that they are… less than pleased with the outcome of the most recent campaigns against the Legion.”

“How long before he’s able to travel?” Medivh asked.

Baine shook his head, slowly. “With the number of injuries he came to us with? It won’t be soon.”

“I must go as soon as I am able,” Khadgar insisted. “Or else you and yours will be in danger on two fronts. I was a trap set for Medivh. I don’t know more than that. I don’t know if I’m liable to do something in my sleep or if I have some kind of planted device.” His eyes dropped from Baine’s. “I have to leave. As quickly as possible.”

Baine sucked in a swift breath, and blew out his nostrils. “I will send someone able to search for devices. Until then, we will post guards, both for your safety and ours.” The tauren left, and Medivh and Khadgar exchanged looks.

“If I do one thing – just one thing – to harm _anyone_ , Medivh… _Put. Me. Down._ ” Khadgar’s tone wavered, but the look in his eyes was one Medivh knew well. His former apprentice would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I will see that you do not harm anyone, Khadgar,” Medivh temporized. It would be a cold, cold day at the core of Azeroth before he could bring himself to kill Khadgar – at any costs.

It had been cold, that day in Karazhan, as he slid to his knees, Khadgar’s stunned expression the last thing he’d seen.

Before Khadgar could protest, a troll and the auburn-haired paladin slipped inside. Both of them looked grim. “Magus, we’d like to borrow your aid and expertise in checking the Archmage for ‘devices’,” the troll said, without a hint of accent.

Medivh nodded. “Of course. Just tell me what you want me to do.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff. You need the fluff to counter what's coming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And some of the random OCs now have names!  
> Starshado, Markana, Briyanna and Tshion belong to me.  
> Jelah, Nozilla and Selarcis belong to my wonderful fiance, and are used with permission.

As the mage and paladin staggered out of the infirmary, Medivh sank back onto his bed, one hand against his forehead.

Khadgar was trembling, tears streaming over his temples.

While they had found no actual devices (which was a huge relief, considering how badly injured he had been, his captors could easily have hidden an explosive device in among the damage), they had discovered interlocking spells that caused certain events or words to in turn trigger a cast that Khadgar would have no control over.

Worse, the target in most of them was whoever was nearby. The result would be that Khadgar would appear to be attacking people at random – or acting against whichever side he was in contact with at the time. Thus far, nothing had been triggered, but the troll mage had, with the aid of his mate and healer paladin, managed to remove a few of them, most minor, but a few were set up to cause massive destruction. It eased Khadgar’s mind a little to know he was now no longer as much of a weapon of his captors.

Two of the spells, however, were so deeply ingrained that it caused the four of them considerable distress, for none of them could find a way to unseat the trigger. None of them could figure out how to safely work through the spell net to even disable the cast. One was set against Medivh. The other on destabilizing the ley lines around Karazhan – causing major destruction to the area and possibly worse if it destabilized the tower itself.

“I can only thank the Light you have not called me by the nickname you use.” Khadgar turned his head to look at Medivh.

Medivh’s hand lowered. “I think it was in part, instinct. I felt… something. Now that I know what it is, it is far worse.” He shook his head. “Going home isn’t an option.”

“No,” Khadgar agreed, sadly.

“Nor can we take you to Dalaran. Light help us if you unleashed something there…” Medivh slid off his cot and knelt by Khadgar’s, sliding one hand in the younger mage’s.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here a while, then,” came a soft, but somewhat cheerful voice. The blond paladin had returned, bearing stew and more tea. “Healers’ orders, gentlemen. I just had to kick my brother and his mate into doing the same. All of you have been expending massive amounts of effort, even if it doesn’t feel that way.” He put one bowl beside Khadgar’s bed, the other into Medivh’s free hand, then moved to aid Khadgar to sit up and prop him against cushions and pillows.

His voice softened a little as he spoke again. “Are you feeling better otherwise, Archmage?”

Khadgar sighed. “Physically, yes. Thank you, Selarcis.” He let the paladin prop him up and accepted the bowl.

“Good,” the paladin replied before turning to Medivh and helping him to move back to his bed. “And you, Magus?”

“Somewhat better,” Medivh replied. “My ankle is as good as new.”

The paladin snorted. “Not likely – though you do heal quickly so you shouldn’t be more than a day – perhaps two.” He retreated to the entrance, looking back at the pair. “Eat. Then we can see about arranging a trip down to the spring so you can get cleaned up. The springs would probably do you good.”

“Springs?” Medivh blinked.

The paladin grinned. “One of the good things about this place – and why so many healers tend to congregate here. Spirit Rise rests on a hot spring that’s been carved out partway down the bluff. The heat, the mineral steam, the mineral water of the spring itself… all promote healing. “So. A hot bath and a good long soak is the next prescription for you both.” He slipped out before he could be questioned further.

Medivh sighed. “I suppose I couldn’t have brought you to a better place…”

Khadgar prodded his stew thoughtfully. “Instinct, I suppose.” He looked up with a wry smile. “And it was the closest settlement likely to have healers.”

Medivh curled his legs under him, hissed, then propped his injured ankle up a bit on a pillow. “That wasn’t Alliance.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the implications here. I don’t like them one bit. You were accused of treason, when you are the last person that walks this world capable of it.”

“Oh I’m capable,” Khadgar said quickly. “I’m capable and have done it. Just in ways that haven’t been so obvious as to be called such.” He sighed. “I’ve subverted the crown in more ways than I’d like to think – but I’ve also done it under the guise of ‘remaining neutral’. If I get intelligence from one side, it’s with the assumption that I will share that intelligence with ‘the other side’.” He paused, shaking his head. “Other side. Why that is even a thing at this point, I just don’t understand.” With another sigh, he applied himself to his stew.

Medivh shook his head, doing the same. In all honesty, if it were up to the two of them – which it apparently wasn’t – Azeroth would have been a united force after the battle with the Legion. Instead the peoples had formed a hard rift, and appeared ready to fight for the world itself as a whole, leaving no space for ‘the other side’ within it, regardless of who lived there the longest, or who had more or less claim over it.  As a result, the sleeping Titan continued to bleed out, and there was no one left, other than the two of them, who seemed to care.

And yet…

Medivh paused and picked up his tea mug, staring at it for a moment. “And yet, both sides respect you. They care enough for you that it doesn’t matter where you go that you get a similar reaction,” he mused aloud. “Everywhere I went, searching for you, there was concern over your disappearance.”

Khadgar lifted an eyebrow, setting his empty bowl aside and picking up his mug, cradling it in his hands. “Everywhere?”

Medivh nodded, setting his mug back down and returning to his stew to finish it. “Everywhere. I got the same answers:  that you were due, but had not shown. Many had thought you were just delayed or had found something ‘interesting’, but when I’d mentioned the previous visit had gotten me nowhere in finding you, the concern grew.”

Khadgar went quiet for a few moments as he watched Medivh finish his stew and settle his bowl within his own, stacked neatly on the table. “Other than Stormwind, I presume?”

“Oh, no. Anduin Wrynn was rather upset that you had not shown up.” Medivh raised an eyebrow. “Greymane was … quiet. And he refused to look at me.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the red-haired priestess tapping on the door frame. When they had both looked at her, she smiled. “Ah, good. I was hoping we’d given you enough time. Sel and I will be helping you down to the springs in a moment.” She slipped in to collect the empty bowls. “Both of you could do with a good long soak.”

She turned to Khadgar, reaching out to brush her hand over his forehead. “Your fever has broken, which means you’re finally going to stop fighting me. About time.” She chuckled at his stunned look. “I’m afraid you were in worse shape while we tried to heal you – one of us had to fight you from fighting us.” Her hand fell back to her side. “We were terrified for a little that we would kill you ourselves.”

She took a step back, then turned to Medivh to look at his ankle. “Healing well, but not quite perfect yet. You heal fast, Magus.” She smiled, then turned to leave.

“Briyanna?”

The priestess turned back. “Archmage?”

“Thank you. All of you. Pass that on, if you would?”

The priestess turned slightly pink, but her smile touched her eyes as she nodded. “Of course.” She was gone before either of them could speak again.

“You know her and the paladin,” Medivh observed.

“I do. Then again, I also know the other paladin and the mage that was here earlier.” When Medivh raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in inquiry, he chuckled and went on. “Tshion is Selarcis’ brother. Jelah – the mage – is Tshion’s other half.”

Medivh’s eyes widened, and suddenly the red-haired paladin’s words returned to him as he fretted with worry over Khadgar. “Oh,” he said, the one word holding much meaning.

“I remember seeing Tshion talking to you as the healers worked on me. I figured he had to tell you a bit of his own experiences.”

“He did,” Medivh confirmed. “Told me you were in good hands, and that he… understood how I felt, watching you so close to dying.”

Khadgar nodded, slowly. “These people are no different than those of Stormwind, Ironforge, or anywhere else.”

Medivh shook his head. “You’ll never get most humans to think that way.”

“Nor dwarves, gnomes or night elves – though many of them have pacts with the tauren people, and already know.”

“Not to mention the Earthen Ring?” Medivh asked.

With another deep sigh, Khadgar nodded. “One would think if some of these groups had learned… The professions of the world banded together just a few months ago. Some of those bonds were very close. But now, it seems that even there any kind of bond has dissolved. The paladins still hesitate, as do the priests and the druids and shaman. It seems any who have the ability to heal, even if they are not healers…”

“Hesitate to shed blood they defended months ago.” Medivh finished. “Whereas others have no problems flinging spells at each other or trying to backstab someone who may have helped them, or just…” He shook his head. “And yesterday’s brother becomes tomorrow’s enemy.”

 

They were not the only ones in the springs, though they were the only humans. Once they were clean, they both felt better. The initial few moments in the springs called up every hurt they had from scrapes to cuts to bruises to every stitch along Khadgar’s skin. Medivh held his hand, wincing at the way it was crushed as Khadgar relaxed, but didn’t let it go when he had.

Medivh was not the only one concerned either. Tshion and Jelah = who apparently had also been ‘bullied’ into eating and drinking before being sent here – both looked on in obvious concern, and two orcs and a tauren both winced visibly at every gasp either of them uttered as they settled.

The two orcs were a pairing. The female, one of the ones who had tended Khadgar, was a shaman named Markana, the other was a fighter who had little idea what was going on, but Nozilla knew enough about battle wounds to know that the mage was in bad shape.

The tauren female had been the one to carry Medivh into the infirmary, a druid by the name of Starshado. Every time Khadgar hissed, she shifted uncomfortably, as though she wanted to do something about it, but remained where she was, even if her eyes didn’t leave the pair of mages at all until they had both relaxed again.

They were instructed (or rather, ordered) to remain in the spring until they were sent for. After the initial chuckles died down, considering the order had come from Briyanna and she was smaller than both mages (who were assured that she would take them apart in alphabetical order if they disobeyed), they started to wonder … why.

Starshado had a ready answer. “The minerals in the springs of course. They will seep into your hurts, and help to heal them. The hot water will relax you, which also speeds healing. And you,” she pointed at Medivh, “will likely be walking normally on that ankle by this time tomorrow if you behave. Your bones surely appreciate this treatment.” She smiled, then stretched herself, as uncaring as anyone else in the pool of her nudity. “As for why so long? You may wind up needing refuge here. Quarters are being prepared for you.”

Khadgar blinked at her. “What?”

Jelah answered, quietly. “You’re in trouble, Archmage. Your injuries. The set-spells.” He rubbed at a tusk absently. “Someone … doesn’t necessarily want you dead. They want to _hurt_ you.”

A low growl came from one of the orcs. “No, Noz. That doesn’t mean you can kill someone.”

“But –“

“No. This mess is political.” Markana sighed. “We can’t solve it with killing. As easy as that would be.”

Nozilla shifted in the water, looking uncomfortable. “This is Archmage _Khadgar_ we’re talking about, Kana. How is that political?”

Medivh chuckled. “Well, it is exactly that, I’m afraid. He is, as I am, loyal to Azeroth, and refuses to take sides in this mess. Someone decided to reach out from one side and … called him a traitor.”

“Said someone should have his voice removed. Or her voice. Whichever.” Nozilla crossed his arms over his chest. “Archmage Khadgar has never been more loyal to the people of this world by trying to save us all, regardless of which flag we fly. He is beloved by anyone who’s worked with him, and for a time, I found myself working with … them. Back to back, shield to shield. And I would still defend them if I had to.”

Khadgar sank a little deeper into the water. “I tried,” he said softly, almost too softly for the others to hear him. “But I… failed.”

“No!” Tshion snapped. “You didn’t fail. Our _leaders_ failed _us_.” He waved a hand upwards. “Some of the leaders think as you do. Others…” He shook his head, apparently unwilling to name any names. “Do not. Will not. Are blind to the real issues. Do you honestly think we didn’t notice, Archmage, that you wound up shunted aside as things on Argus unfolded? Do you think we didn’t see the look in your eyes as that sword dug into Silithus?”

“We saw,” Markana said softly. “You did not fail us. You failed nothing. It was you who guided us to where we needed to be and how. We are ordered to war, now, by leaders who are blinded to what’s really going on. You cannot take that blame on yourself.”

Medivh squeezed Khadgar’s hand. “You see? Will you believe me now?”

Khadgar sighed. “I still feel as though all I’ve done has done nothing.”

“Nothing? The Legion is gone, Archmage. You led us to defend not only our world but all worlds, Titan or not!” Jelah cried. “And you still do what you can while we’re… dealing with this petty … stupid… just…”

“Calm down, Jelah, or you’ll wind up stuttering again,” Tshion soothed. “But he’s right,” he went on, turning to the humans again. “Without you, we would all be in deep shit. Deeper than we could get out of on our own. Your guidance meant the world to us all. Literally in some cases. If there are those too blind to see where your loyalty lies and decides you need to be for one side or the other in a petty war, it’s up to us to defend you. Without you, we wouldn’t have had a home to return to.”

Khadgar didn’t answer, though his eyes held gratitude for those around him. Medivh carried the conversation for both of them as he realized something deep in him began to heal. They _did_ understand. At least.. some of them did.


End file.
